| EPITATH TO A DREAMER |
| PROSE AND POETRY, RHYME AND REASON |
| G. E. Strong was my Father. He passed away in October of 1996. Dad was not a classically trained artist, but his love of the arts, of the written word was something that we shared. I've always felt that these tomes written by my Father should have been published. And now, this page does that. Dad was not a man who looked for fame or recognition. What he wanted more than anything else, was knowledge. As you may find in some of the writings included below, my Father's wit and wisdom were unique while also universal. A simple man with more talent than he led himself to believe. |
| CLICK ON THE THUMBNAIL IMAGES BELOW TO READ THE TEXT. YOU WILL BE TRANSPORTED TO A SEPARATE PAGE FOR EACH TITLE LISTED |
| Sans amis, comme sans familla, vivre en ètranger. Viellir,de jour en jour plus triste. C'est l'histoire de l'egöiste |
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| My Father had a pension for quick observations. But always with wit. | My Father was not that worldly. But he was educated in what he called the best school on Earth. The road! | My Father was an incurable romantic. He wrote this originally for his first wife. | Dad was a romantic. But also had a slightly skewed wit. |
RECOMPENSED
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AND
THAT'S THAT |
MUSINGS
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UNTITLED
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OBSERVATIONS
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| This poem was a tribute to my oldest brother. Dad had always wanted a family, but was not certain of how he would handle the change in his life. As this poem, and the one which follows it details, he felt complete. | Dad was tiring of the road. His days as a salesman were numbered. | Written one year before my Father's first marriage. The news clipping was from a local paper. It failed to note that this party was for the engagement of my Father and his first wife. | This was written after Dad's first divorce. Even depression and loss could not damper his adventurous spirit. | This was one of my Father's last pieces of writing. He was as eloquent as ever. |
ODE
TO WOOLWORTH'S
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WISIN'
UP |
| Dad loved to laugh. Possibly more than anything, he instilled in myself and all of his children a love of humor and laughter. This poem took him (or so he said) two weeks to compose. He sited this as one of his most favorite pieces.I tend to agree. It still gives me a good laugh. Special note: This should be spoken (or read) with a heavy French Canadian accent. | This was the last bit of poetry Dad wrote about his first wife. Needless to say, I guess the branding iron was actually handed over to my Mom. |
| Thank You for indulging me here. I hope that you enjoyed this tribute to my Father. I can only say that the experience of setting up this page has given me a greater insight into the man.. and myself. |
© 1998-2000 Areles